


Enlightenment

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim thinks about some changes in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlightenment

## Enlightenment

by J.C.

Author's website:  <http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci/jcmain.html>

The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property, and I am not making money off of them. That's all I have to say.

Just some Jim-musings that interrupted something else I was working on.

* * *

Enlightenment by J.C. 

I. 

Jim settled himself in bed, closing his eyes as he shifted to get more comfortable. He sighed, a soft exhalation that spoke of relaxing muscles and a pleasantly full stomach; a tough case solved and an evening gone well; a life just a little less out of control. 

Amazing, considering what he'd been through in the past few days. Like having his past blow up in his face in the form of Veronica Sarris. And having emotions flare then settle almost completely between he and Carolyn. And, most importantly, learning that he wasn't losing his mind after all, but merely (or rather, remarkably) had a physical condition...an enhancement...a _gift_ , that, with the help of a kid named Blair Sandburg, he might actually learn to handle to a great advantage. 

Overwhelming to say the least, and it felt so good to be home alone in his loft, the darkness familiar and comforting. 

He opened his eyes to look through the skylight overhead, thinking about his dinner with Carolyn earlier that evening. She'd been right; she _had_ learned to cook, but after having his invitations turned down for months, and after their disastrous night at the restaurant days before, the invitation had been a surprise. Surprising too, that it had turned out to be the best time they'd had in years. But, already he knew that they wouldn't be getting back together. Despite how well they had gotten along, it was obvious that he wasn't the one for her, nor she for him, though he had never seen the plain truth of that before. 

Ever since their divorce, he had made attempts to reconnect with her. He had wanted in some way to make things right between them again, and could sense that she wanted that, too, was looking for something, waiting for some word, some gesture, some action, some _something_ from him. But, he had never gotten it right and finally had concluded that what she needed just wasn't in him to give. 

Perhaps, he thought, he was just giving all he had to the job. At least there he was succeeding above and beyond, as long as he was left alone to do it his way, which, more often than not, he was. And every case he solved eased a little part of him inside, restoring a sense of rightness that served to counteract what had passed for 'right' in Covert Ops, and helped him atone a little at a time for the deaths of seven men he'd buried far from home. The memory of that disastrous mission still haunted him. But, his eighteen months in the jungle hadn't been a total failure. He had walked away satisfied that in spite of everything he had managed to fulfill an important purpose, and with every successful arrest, he was able to experience that again. 

A watchman, Sandburg had said, and the word felt right, anyway, explained some of the need inside him. A Sentinel, someone who used heightened senses for the greater good. 

His own senses had scared the shit out of him, damn near driven him crazy. So much so that he had been ready to quit the force, even though he'd only told Simon that he wanted a leave of absence. Carolyn was supposed to have talked some sense into him the night she'd unexpectedly agreed to go out to dinner. That night of spiking extremes--of too spicy food and a desperate kiss in the rain. A kiss that he knew hadn't been a reaction to Carolyn, but to himself suddenly wide open with no control. A kiss which had proven that all he had ever done was go through the motions with her. He'd always been too closed off...not trying to reach out, and not letting anything in. 

Now, it seemed he might have no choice but to open himself up to someone. In fact, it could very well be a matter of life and death, if his close encounter with a garbage truck was anything to go by. Just like that, he was supposed to let some fast-talking, bullshit-spouting, young-ass, long-haired, earring-wearing, neo-hippie...life-saving... _punk_ into his life. Into his _head_ , even. 

'That kid is like a 200-watt bulb', he thought, 'trying to throw light on _everything_. So bright, he almost hurts my eyes.' Not to mention how the rest of him had been affected in an odd, painfully pleasant surge of awareness. But he had quickly gotten used to that, trying not to hate it, trying not to like it too much. 

He closed his eyes on the memory of Blair Sandburg, but couldn't shake the idea that having Sandburg in his life was like finally finding the light switch when you thought all you'd ever know was blinding darkness. In walked Sandburg and all the lights had come on. Well...maybe not _all_. Maybe so far it was just one dim lamp in the corner, but it was there, and to Jim, it was a glimmer of hope. 

That thought was enough to make him smile a little as sleep finally overtook him. 

II. 

Jim woke up, his heart racing, but quickly calming as he habitually focused on the steady beat downstairs. After the long trip back from Peru, he'd thought exhaustion would have let him at least sleep through the night. Propping himself up, he took a sip of water from the glass on his nightstand, not even startled to see the glowing eyes in the corner. In fact, he found it strangely comforting to know that the panther could appear to him as easily in the loft as in the jungle. But, he couldn't say that he was totally used to the idea of the dreams and the visions in general. Although he was trying to be accepting, it was still disconcerting to have a connection to the spirit world or...whatever it was. 

He thought about the dream that had just yanked him from sleep. In it, he had walked up to a door, not wanting to open it, but unable to stop himself. Slowly, he had crossed the threshold into a room, feeling sad and afraid when the door closed behind him with a heavy thump. At the far end was an altar, lit by what seemed like ten thousand candles, though the rest of the room remained pitch black, untouched by the candles' fiery glow. Automatically, he called out for Blair, but got no answer. Yet, he wasn't quite alone. Silently, he moved forward through the heavy darkness toward the bright, flickering lights, his spirit guide in step beside him. The closer he got to the altar, the faster his heart beat, the staccato rhythm filling the room like a native drum, but he had woken up before making it all the way across the room. 

He turned over in bed wondering what the dream meant. What was he supposed to know? Or do? 

In the jungle, he had faced his fear and made the right choice. He hadn't been afraid of dying, but rather of living with his new abilities, especially in the face of Blair's impending departure for a year-long expedition to Borneo. In his dream then, he had also looked for Blair. But, when standing alone with himself (that primal warrior that he liked to think he truly was deep inside), he had been willing to go forward off the cliff, and not backwards to a life of being 'ordinary', even without knowing that Blair had also chosen...chosen him...chosen them. 

Still, there was a lot that he was sure he wasn't seeing; yet he was also sure that the answers were out there for him to find. And, evidently, he would have help along the way: a ghostly warrior, a black jaguar, Blair Sandburg. 

As crazy and frightening as that might be, it had its rewards. He remembered the rush when his senses had kicked back in, imagined it akin to what some people felt when they either got high or saw God. 

Breathing deeply, he extended his senses a little more towards Blair downstairs, cautioning himself to be patient, not let weariness and frustration throw him off track...off his path, no matter how difficult it might be at times. 

Something was up ahead waiting for him, something he wanted so badly he could feel it like a parching thirst, though he couldn't name it. Whatever rough roads he had to travel, at that moment, he had no doubt that it was all within his reach. 

Peacefully, he slipped back to sleep with Blair's heart sounding out soothingly in the background. 

**III.**

Jim lay in bed, unable to sleep, and used the time to systematically test his sight, checking for any residual golden haze. He was battling an edginess that he had been trying to attribute to leftover fallout from his recent brush with the drug, Golden, but finally had to admit that he was simply nervous about being invited to go with Blair to a party. An invitation that he kept thinking of as a date. Ridiculous, he knew, since Blair had pretty much told him that he was simply tired of seeing Jim sit home alone night after night just because things hadn't worked out with Margaret. But, Jim was sure he'd seen a flash of emotion in Blair's eyes, sensed something more behind the words...or maybe that was just wishful thinking because of the shift in his own feelings, and his very strong doubts about how to handle them. 

He had lived in a fortress of his own making for so long; he still found it hard to let down his defenses. Having the heightened senses had made him dependent on Blair in a variety of situations, and he had let Blair get close...closer than anyone ever before. But, still, he found himself reflexively striking out or shutting down, uncomfortable with having to accept so much help, and the willingness with which Blair gave it. 

The hardest part was finally facing the fact that he loved Blair. He only allowed himself to think about it in those midnight hours alone in bed, before succumbing to the pull of sleep. But, it was also in those same quiet moments that his fears seemed the most real. Of hurting Blair, of needing him, of losing him, of destroying what they already had. Of one of them failing the other. 

The Golden episode--losing his sight and having Blair act as his eyes, Blair's reaction to the drug which ended with a hospital stay--had shaken him up again. It wasn't the first time he had been plagued with worries over the conflict of Blair being there to help him coupled with the possibility of Blair getting hurt because of it. However, he realized that he had grown more afraid of letting Blair go, then keeping him close. 

But, could anything more ever work between them? Who would want someone with so many issues when it came to love and trust? Blair had shown persistence and patience in dealing with Jim's senses, but what about his heart? Would he want to take the time to encourage Jim in that way? Would he want to wait long enough for Jim to get his shit together? 

The dissolution of his life and relationship with Carolyn had left Jim with the pain of uncertainty, clueless about whether he could manage relationships. But, Blair had penetrated through his walls time and time again, and he had begun to think that something real was right there in front of him, and he had almost missed seeing it. 

Resolutely, he tried to put it out of his mind for the time being. He had too many questions, and no middle-of-the-night answers. But, what he did have was a not-quite-date with Blair the next day, and he was looking forward to it. 

He may have been blind for a long time in the past, he thought, as his eyes finally grew heavy, but he was starting to see some definite possibilities. 

the end... 

* * *

End Enlightenment by J.C.: jazzedup@prodigy.net

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